Detrahat et Amor
by LucaBlightIsPUCA
Summary: Lust knew no bound, no rivalry, nor prestige or dignity. He may have proclaimed an undying war. At the same time, his attempt to put that lust in denial was an attempt in vain. His heart had craved for the stripper for quite a long time, and so had she. (AU; MxFemalestripper!N. Complete warnings and explanations are inside of the story)


**Author's note**:

Yes, another gender bender story. However, that one is explained in the "**Brief explanation**" session below. Anyway, before you get to read the story, I need to warn some things to you. I **DO NOT** suggest this story to younger readers under the age of eighteen. This story is rated MA (Mature Adult) because it has a heavy sex scene, implied illegal abortion, and night life which are not suitable for children and teenagers under the appropriate age.

Anyway, I need to inform you that this is my first attempt in a detailed lemon. Also, this fanfiction does not really have a real plot development whatsoever, and is not really a piece of romance. Thus, I do not think I am quite proud of this. Nevertheless, I tried my best.

Alright, substituting those things aside, I need to clarify one thing, that English is not my native language, nor do I live in a country which uses English as its daily language. Therefore, I ask for apologize for any disturbances which will probably inconvenience you in understanding the story line of this fanfiction.

**Disclaimer**:

Death Note and all of its characters, story line, and properties belong to the respective owners and creators, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. This fanfiction is purely a fan-made, made with no intention of gaining any profit.

* * *

**Detrahat et Amor  
**

"_If I took you home, it'd be a home run."_

—_Flo Rida ft. Sia: Wild Ones_

* * *

On a roughly craved stone and a neatly arched up nickel, the name "Wammy's University" was sculpted in gold. The brilliant illumination of the sun enlivened the university building. It was one busy day; one busy morning. Incalculable youths stretched in and out of the building in that kind of inevitable way.

Inside the building—however—was a variation of many activities.

Rigid paces were hollering; idle chats were filling the air. United as one, they made a noise of domination over an entire white hall. People were sprawled all across the hall. Some were busy with their books; some were taking necessity out of their lockers; some were just walking or idly chatting with friends.

Only one was twirling a lock of shoulder-length snow white—walking as nonchalant as ever while a pair of pitch black irises wandered through the hall. Occasionally, some would dart a smile of hideous at the young adult in white pajamas—she could ignore. This time—however—was a crash to her petite frame by some prankster. As a final result, her bottom and books were roughly collided with the grey tiles.

A light gasp slid out of the nineteen years old's thin lips. Her pale hand was extended to reach a sprawled book. However, the act was put to a stop when a black shoe stomped on the book.

"Near…."

Near pilfered a single glance to the owner of the indignant voice. Gazes of hollow and emptiness met the blazing ones. In her most honest opinion, the figure in black leathers was menacing. His jaw was sharp; the silky golden locks of his perfectly framed his burned face.

"Hello, Mello." Near's response was as blunt as ever.

"You may have won the test this time." His hiss delineated the growl of an untamed lion. "But mark my words: there will be no victory for _**you**_ next time!"

One abrasive stomp on Near's book, and Mello immediately took his leave. Nevertheless, Near did not resist—she never did, in fact.

"Near, are you okay?"

The attention in Near was promptly averted to the arrival of a new voice.

"Yes, I am alright, Matt. Thank you," Near murmured as she vacantly stared at Matt who was bending down.

"Sorry about Mello's behavior," the goggled red head grunted through the difficulty of establishing a few books in hands. "Here are your books." He irradiated a genuine smile as he extended the books to Near.

"Thank you," Near whispered as she took the books to her chest.

In split seconds, both stood on their feet.

The red head in black striped shirt released a jolly snigger. "Well, please, don't mind Mello. He's just a chocolate addict jerk."

Near nodded in affirmation. "I do not."

"Okay then. I think I've got a class which is about to start in a few minutes," Matt informed casually. "See ya later, I guess."

Their meeting was concise as Matt waved a hand of "good bye" to Near. Near—on the other hand—only let out a hollow respond.

* * *

Classes, busy schedules….

_What a day!_

Least of all, it was what every college student of Wammy's University would complain about. The curtain of noon had rolled down, giving a chance for the night to roll up. Some had preferred to enjoy the weekend with the companion of families. However, some had also inferred to spend the night in the university's residence of hall.

It was in one exact room, to be precise.

The blond huffed; blue irises glistened with boredom. "Are we gonna let off some steam tonight or what?"

Mello was undeniably not in joy. He was comfortably in position; sitting on his fluffy bed while running a sight of Matt with his PSP. Matt had been tapping the black console furiously for almost an hour. The fact that he had been sitting just across of Mello with no words fueled Mello's anger.

Getting no response from the red head only made Mello's situation worse. "Matt!" he finally shouted.

"Huh, ya?" Matt abruptly looked up—spontaneously putting the Kingdom Hearts boss battle into a halt.

"I'm bored, and I'm not happy either." Mello crossed his arms.

"The test result again, eh?"

The blond snorted indignantly in response.

"How about… getting over your obsession with Near?"

Upon hearing that certain name, Mello raged with wrath. "What the fuck, Matt! I'm not obsessed with that freakish albino!"

Absent-mindedly, Matt produced a roll of eyes. "Yeah, sure… with the way you stare at her, and the way you observe her every movement—you _**certainly**_ are not obsessed with Near."

"SCREW YOU!" Mello hurled a white pillow to Matt, and it shored on Matt's face with precise exactitude. "I don't look at the freak that way! I just observe her to find her weakness in order to beat her, you shit head!"

"Sure, buddy," he lightly teased as he shoved the pillow away. However, his grin was that of a malicious one.

"Seriously…," Mello grunted in annoyance. "Today has been a bitch for me, and I need to hang out!"

"How about we go to the new strip club? Matt suddenly suggested. "Dave told me that they've got a really hot stripper."

Matt's suggestion flickered a sudden interest of Mello's. Unconsciously, his left hand shifted his leather pants' pocket, swiftly taking out a bar of chocolate. "Well, better than nothing," he mustered. Both his thumb and forefinger were working in union to unfold the aluminum foil.

* * *

It had greeted their views. Dashing with a car, Matt and Mello could get a prefect imagery of the electric neon calligraphy. It blinked a multicolour glow every now and then—radiating an illumination over a building it was put on. On the other hand, the building was just across of them.

They knew this was the place.

* * *

Incalculable ray of lights were dancing their colours madly. With a rapid speed, they irradiated the dark dancing floor and countless passionate youths. They were in fire—dancing to the robust techno music, laughing, and gulping down those hot liquors like there was no tomorrow.

The chocoholic breathed in the night world scenery upon entering the place. "It's not that high class," Mello let out a spontaneous comment.

"Ya, probably still new," the gamer countered as his goggled view came upon the depiction of a crowded bar.

In hope of finding the main stage, both males roamed through the swarm of people together.

"Anyway, when will the dancer perform?" the blond let out a spontaneous query.

Matt suppressed a chuckle. "What? Are you planning to get to the champagne room?"

"Only if the dancer is really hot."

* * *

Diverting to the distinct part of the club, hustles and rustles were merely heard. Idle chats, shuffled bikinis and makeups—those were the major noises some dancers would make in the backstage.

"The first performance will be yours, Natelie," one of the girls in red bikini noticed to her co-worker.

The co-worker looked up from the laces of her black stocking. Her white strands swayed to the side, revealing a pale façade with a thick layer of exotic makeups.

"Yes, I am aware of that, Dixxy." Natelie's voice was no other than that of a monotone one.

Dixxy delivered a friendly smile upon hearing her co-worker's response. "Try to be all flirty to the customers, okay? Good luck."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Silence afflicted on the whole strip club. Music stopped; the DJ had spoken, probably was about to announce something.

"Tonight we're gonna have a fabulous performance! Young and fresh, yet wild and beautiful! I present you this new exotic dancer, Natelie Fleuve!"

Slowly, the beats started to tick. The violent music of techno and electronic pop began to dominate the once tranquil club. All eyes were now set firmly on one certain spot. There was no exception for Matt and Mello as well—as they were now dead curious.

Natelie Fleuve had revealed herself. With a black bikini, she made domination over the cheering crowd. The clutter of her clattering stilettos was overrode as she pranced through the cheers and peering eyes.

Matt shouted; Mello squinted his eyes. He tried to gain any comprehension, but it was all to no avail. The man in glorified leathers was indulged with confusion and uncertainty.

"Hey, Matt," Mello called to his best friend.

"Ya?" Matt was practically screamed. He was not faltered to steal a single glance at the blond as his attention was fully locked on one certain dancer.

The same occasion was not an exception for Mello either.

"Do you… do you think that the dancer looks awfully familiar?"

"Like who? Near?" The redhead relieved a fairly amused chortle at his own jest.

It had been proven to be something anomalous when Mello did not budge even an inch at Matt's ridiculous hoax. In effect, his genius mind was busily dragging out some familiarity between this dancer and someone his heart had sworn to despise.

Was Near able to do this sort of thing?

Fleuve threw her head back. Having the silver pole sexually fumbled, she swiftly led her free hand to waltz around her gorgeous breast to her unexposed genital. Her act was one of a perfection with the exotic yet intimidating gazes of her glittered black eyes.

_No, that's not possible for that freak…,_ Mello speculated inwardly. _But…._

All eyes were goggled; yells and cheers were getting more violent over the entire horde. On the other side, Mello had sworn that he had to force the gap on his mouth shut when Fleuve did the three hundred sixty degrees pole rotation.

_This is not possibly Near. Then again, why do I care?_

Talking about objectivity—sure, one could not simply dispute an individual for having their way of digging income. Strippers would have had their personal reason for life survival, which was none of Mello's business in any particular way. However, the imagery of Near with bikini, laces, and stocking just….

"Oh, my sweet Jesus!" Matt's screech was content with excitement as his gazes penetrated Fleuve and her next play.

As the electronic rhyme waltzed to almost an end, tip had flown all around the exotic stripper. Fleuve knew better of the fact that it was time. Slowly yet seductively, she set both of the bikini's straps insecure, pulling them down with caution. In which yells and screams were getting pitched, the desire of many hungry men had provided her with more tips.

Mello was not naïve. Breasts would not boost his vitality. However, it was—in most of his wild assumption—Near. Again, why did this aspire him?

"Where are you going, Mells?" Matt constantly asked as Mello began to take a leave.

"Getting laid."

Mello's answer was not necessarily the truth. Nevertheless, Matt barely gave a single notice about it.

Thus, the nineteen years old man freely wandered through the club. Crossing some teens, couples, and drunk fools in hope of finding one certain figure. Mello spontaneously put his rough paces to a halt when his gazes met one certain chick at the corner of the club. It was not her, but this would do.

The blond impatiently stormed to her way. "You." His face was now confronted with the stripper in pink lingerie.

"What's up, mister? Want a private dance?" the pretty woman seductively asked.

Much to her disappointment unfortunately, Mello hardly put her offer into a consideration.

"No," he constantly denied. "Listen, do you know where I can find that Natelie Fleuve?"

"That new kid? She's no fun, Mister Handsome. I can serve you better." Slowly, the stripper motioned her slim fingers to veer around Mello's pants.

"No!" Impetuous and out of patience, the angry blond immediately slapped the soft hand away. Later, he planted a strong grip on that hand. "Tell me where I can find her. NOW!" His tone now as menacing as his piercing gazes.

When rage consumed Mello's mind, most of the sane beings would logically oblige his demand—this stripper was not an exception either.

"Sh-she's usually at the bar—searching for some customers or probably doing table dances…."

The terrible shake of the dancer's prestige put Mello's act to an end. He indignantly scoffed, thereafter dragged his curious paces to the bar.

Through the jungle of people, the target was faintly visualized. Nevertheless, Mello's sharp visions were adequate to gain a precise portrayal of the sitting Natelie Fleuve. Now that he had led himself to her, his doubt was constantly erased as his stares depicted those all-too-familiar white locks.

"Near." The chocoholic roughly had a perfect grip of Fleuve's right arm.

The new stripper—surprised—rotated her head in response. A moment of eternity was molded in approximately five seconds as both male and female were exchanging intimidating gazes.

However, Fleuve's melodious tone brought a final to those five seconds of eternity. "Hello, Mello. It is fancy to meet you at such place like this."

Mello's wild speculation was now proven to be exactly the truth.

"So, it was you, after all." The man in black leathers grimaced. "What the hell are you doing h—"

"Oi, oi, oi… Natelie is NOW mine, mister," a slurred voice interrupted. "If—if… ya want a private dance, ya have to wait for yer turn!"

Disgusted, Mello promptly delivered a scrunch of nose at the old drunkard. However, the blond immediately subsided it with a fierce grimace when the filthy man's arm circled Near's waist.

"Back off… twit."

This was it.

"What did you call me?" Empowered by anger and dignity, Mello's hand spontaneously reached the man's collar and lifted it up.

Casually, every sane being would have backed off, but this one was drunk.

"I called ya twit… ya stupid kid. Kiddy like ya shouldn't have been here… why don't ya go home and do some papers?" A mocking laugh was echoing. "Bet ya will get punished by yer professor on Monday."

Mello's limited patience was now on loose. He was no longer capable of taking control of his fist, as it launched forward with rapid speed onto the man's flat nose. His nose may be broken, but not his dignity. Instinctively, the enraged man planted a grip of taut on one of the wine bottles nearby, therefore tossed it on the chocoholic's head without any predicted warning.

Despite the fact that all the skit's cheers and shouts were getting rowdy, Mello's consciousness faintly took any notice of them. He felt those shattered glass unbearably pierced his head; steadily forcing his eyes shut. Nevertheless, he gathered all the strength to visualize a white figure before his body completely fell into a collapse.

* * *

"Ugh…."

That groan… he was now awake.

Short curls of snow white gracefully rocked to the side; a pair of black orbs painted a figure of an injured man in black leathers.

"You woke up early."

"F-fuck… my head…." The man grimaced in pain, planting a soft tap on his bandaged yellow head in the process.

"Mello."

By instinct, Mello whirled around to the summoner of his name. In the name of the holy Lord, was not he surprised? Beside him, the woman he loathed the most was sitting and turning around that driving wheel of car.

"You were lucky," Near began. "I am friend with the bodyguard and the club security. Otherwise, you would be in a serious trouble right now."

"Where's Matt?" the blond absent-mindedly inquired.

"I did not see him at the bar. So, I quickly decided to take care of your injuries," the woman in long white shirt responded. "Anyway, we are going to the hospital now."

"What? Hospital? I don't wanna go to that stinky place!" Mello abruptly roared a protest.

The pale lady relieved a heavy sigh. "You are injured, Mello. It is best if those injuries are treated by a professional doctor."

"Fuck you, Near." Mello insisted a hiss through the grimacing pain. "I don't wanna see a doctor. Just take me to my goddamn flat—I'll show you the direction."

This time, the albino breathed out a sigh of burden. "Fine. Which direction do I have to take?"

* * *

An abrupt brake sent the vehicle to an abrupt stop on the necropolis street.

"Alright, we have arrived," Near announced. Thereupon, she unequipped her sit belt. "Can you walk?" the white haired lady immediately inquired. Her gazes depicted concern at the injured blond.

"My head… it hurts…," Mello whined painfully.

Near wafted then shifted closer to Mello to have a better look at the chocoholic's condition. Her hands ranged carefully to cup his bandaged head.

The rival's hands were ones of those soft touches. However, the foreign feeling empowered Mello to shift with no comfort. "What the fuck are you doing?" His question slurred out unexpectedly brash yet cold.

"I am checking on your injuries," Near simply answered.

A few moments were passed in tranquility as both of the individuals had no intention to even part a , Near's monotone voice brought an abrupt end to the once tranquil moment.

"Well, I think it is alright, but you need to rest," she notified, lowering her head to the same level as Mello's in the process.

Facing the rival this up close was one thing, Mello had considered. The pride he held high would be in ruins if he had professed just how of a grace the façade in front of him was. Regardless, one could not simply deny the fact that those silky white locks framed Near's delicate frame in a perfectly undescribed kind of way.

Without any notice, the fierce blond's heart was now racing against the foreign feeling. Unfortunately, Mello's pride would not admit a defeat to such feeling.

"Right." Mello later produced a roll of eyes.

True, the chocoholic had not been defeated, yet why did he keep on glancing down at the exposed cleavage of Near's breast?

Fortunately, Near was bright—she was not a moron.

"Like what you see, Mello?" Near arched up her lips into that smirk which only belonged to her.

Mello growled in response.

"What? Are you gonna give an extra service here? Don't expect me to pay you for even a pound!" The chocoholic's forehead was crinkled into a frown. He shot a skeptical stares at the stripper in front of him. "Just fuck off, Near; I don't need any of your stupid stripper's service."

No one had ever rejected Natelie Fleuve's private dance. _No one_. If Mello challenged her, who was Near to decline?

"Why do you get so defensive all of the sudden, Mello? Beside, you o not worry about the fee, for I will not charge any," Near seductively countered. In a manner of grace, her slim fingers traced around to unbutton the white shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing…?" The injured man scowled in utter disbelieve.

"Stripping. It is my job, is not it?" Near's smirk claimed two centimeters of length as she let the soft fabric collapsed freely from her torso.

Prestige and dignity would be disintegrated. Yet, the man's hard member was no longer in a capability of self control. Every inch of his rival's curve delineated beauty; those dark fabrics of lace which secured her C-cup breasts intrigued his now active hormones.

"_Goddamnit_, Near..." Mello's hiss was suppressed in naught.

_When did this midget become so _hot_?_

"Well…." The pale lady set one of the black strings insecure, down to her exhibited left arm. "What do we have here? A really excited _little buddy_?" Near's swarthy irises flickered a spark of interest at the twitching bulge in her rival's pants.

On the other hand, a competition between prestige and lust was in a blazing heat. The blond had eminently forced his dirty desire aside. Nonetheless….

"I know you have always set your eyes on me." Tantalizingly, Near's forefinger titillated around the chocoholic's rough lips. "Admit it, _Mihael_, you have always had a special feeling for me."

_Fuck it_, Mello inwardly cussed. _Matt's right, after all._

This moment—at this exact second—Mello's prestige was no more; he had already let those—oh, so mighty walls of dignity crumbled into million fragments. Unwillingly, he abide, embracing the lust his heart craved for. The man may not acknowledge this, howsoever, his heart could not disavow the sensation of thrill when he abruptly colonized Near's soft lips with his coarse ones—neither could the albino. Both were in the pleasure of delight.

Thirty seconds flew in ecstasy, and the excited blond promptly set their lips apart. "F-Fuck—fuck you, Near…." His breath went in and out irregularly.

"You… you want to fuck me…?" Near tentatively mocked, inhaling as much oxygen as she could in the process.

_Do I wanna fuck her?_

"Yeah."

When prestige and dignity perished, courtesy was left forgotten. The genius man's mind pursued no second contemplation whilst he had—unexpectedly yet crudely—thrust Near's and his body to the back of the passenger seat. The hungry beast pounced the strengthless lady; his azure beads illuminated a flicker of lust in the nebulous dark.

Near released a light gasp of astonishment. "Mello, what are you doing?" she let out a spontaneous query. A pair of ebony orbs wandered frantically to the man who was on top of her.

Venting verbal responses was an effort in vain—or so Mello had considered. Nevertheless, his palm did convey an answer of validation. Hungrily and in need, the tip of his fingers peeked through Near's tight bra. It was swift yet full of caution when those mischievous fingers broke through an entrance.

"Me-Mello…."

"Yes, Near?" the beast in black leathers melodiously sang.

The moment Mello provided a light pinch to Near's erected nipple, she yelped, moaned; he crooked a malicious grin of victory.

_Pay back time, twat._

Near, an exotic dancer? Dozen would spread the news through countless controversial whispers. However, that moan… that beautiful moan—Mello wanted to crush the persona of steel she built in order to please his ears with much more erotic voices. The chocoholic's heart craved for her more, more, and more.

In illation, the man executed his act. His waltzing tongue sent lust all over the lady's lips, down to the bottom of her exposed belly. Whilst she was drowned in an exotic pleasure, his slender fingers were in resolve to unequipped the white short from her thigh.

"Me-Mello!" Near's squeal blasted with the feeling of jittery.

"What?" Mello snickered teasingly, hurling the white short at a random spot in the process. "You were the who started this game, Near. Now look at yourself, you're already as wet as fuck." He suppressed an accentuation as his fingers felt Near's wet clitoris through her undergarment.

Delight, as well as lust had penetrated to the next play. Subsequently, with the instinct of a wild animal, lust had brought those hungry fingers coiling into the wet undergarment. The sensation of Near's trimmed vulva—oh, how delighting it had been to Mello's fingers. Whilst distance slowly got dense; determination conducted the waltz of his fingers into the part which awoken the desire for lust.

"You're so tight, Near. Is this your first time?" the blond questioned; fingers were caressing the albino's inner part.

A soft whimper was detached from those exotic lips. "Y-Yes…." Near inhaled, clawing the rim of Mello's leather at the same moment.

The chocoholic sniggered. _Good._

"Mello…." The genius woman's call was terribly delicate; her voice was deluded with fiery passion.

"Yes, my dear Near?" Mello returned the call. Each passing second softened his touch.

"Please…."

"Please what?"

"Please, fuck me…."

_I win, _the blond congratulated himself inwardly.

"With pleasure."

Heat was ablaze; the eager blond did not even take two minutes to set all of his and Near's clothing incomplete.

"This will probably hurt," Mello murmured, constantly reducing the length which served as a bridge to Near's left ear. "But I assure you that you'll enjoy it."

Near threw her head backward. A symbol of allowance for domination which Mello had fathomed with well clarity. With ease, the blond's erected genital executed an opening to his partner's wet cave.

The extraneous sensation thrilled the albino. The commencement delivered pain. Regardless, she settled an attempt to suppress a shriek.

"Relax, Near…." Mello breathed out a comfort to Near's lips.

Unfortunately, Near's effort was broken in vain. Mello's next thrust transmitted a great deal of pain to her. Her mind conveyed a prediction—a prediction which told that her hymen had been lacerated.

Near was no longer a virgin.

"Me-Mello… please, stop for a while…," she whimpered. Ten delicately manicured nails were digging their ways into the back of Mello's tanned epidermis.

Right on cue, any single movement had been terminated. Oxygen and heat, both winded up in Near's suffocated lungs. She borrowed approximately thirty seconds, shifting to the position.

"Move…," the pale woman whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Just do it." This time, her tone emphasized demand.

That demand intrigued passion. At the outset, Mello jabbed with no agility. Howsoever, agility infiltrate to the next tier when those melodic moans he longed to hear were sung.

_She starts to enjoy this_, he calculated.

Mello was no longer in the necessity of Near's demand. He comprehended that she craved for this; she was in a crisis of climax. His partner required it faster—harder. Without question, of course, the blond was obedient to feed her appetite. Every single thrust was a cry of "Mihael"; and every single cry was an encouragement to push harder yet faster.

"Near… I think… I'm about to cum…," he stuttered. Difficulty of keeping the steady paces joined as a proof.

"W-Wait, Mello! Cum outside… today is not a safe day…."

Mello breathed out a sigh. "…Too late…."

Near's heart raced with two contemplations. She could not deny the fact that her body was content with satisfaction. Nevertheless, her mind was whirring with fear.

"Don't worry," the blond sent whispers of assurance as he pulled out. "I know someone who will help us in providing the abortion drugs illegally."

The albino's answer was a solitude. She swiftly sat up—in silence inspecting the creamy yet sticky liquid gushed out from her aching genital, leaving a tint to the seat.

"Near—"

"Just do not run away, Mello."

"You underestimate me, Near." Mello liberated a growl from his arid lips. "I'm not that kinda irresponsible jerk."

As a rejoined, Near nodded with affirmation.

A smile of joy was transmitted. The blond sighed in relieve. "Beside…." He intertwined five fingers into Near's silky locks. "I have this special feeling for you, right? I won't leave."

"I understand," Near distributed a murmur in between the atmosphere of serenity. "However, does this confession make us a couple now?"

A fairly amused laugh forced the silence substituted. "To tell you the truth, I still can't cast aside our rivalry," Mello began. "And I'm not ready to expose our new relationship to other people, including Matt. Let's just take our time to know each others, alright? Beside, I'm curious why you chose this kinda job."

The genius lady traced every single word which Mello had just concluded into a profession. A pair of ebony irises wandered through a tremendous consideration.

"Well… I am now in a brink of an economic pressure. The rest of it is a rather long story." Near's accent imprinted deep thoughts. "Anyhow, I may have not had any real experience regarding a romantic relationship. However, I suppose that sounds alright. In fact... I have longed for your affection for quite a long time."

Leastwise, a time of harmony had befallen both of the individuals. For the very first time, prestige and dignity were left forgotten. Mello—himself—had already had the precise capability to enforce a smile, at the same time executed a kiss of passion and affection.

"Mello…," Near suddenly called, eliminating the passionate kiss at the same moment.

"Yeah?"

Near directed one forefinger; the cue being on the tinted seat. "We have to clean up this mess."

"Right." The chocoholic playfully tagged a grin along his face. "It will be super gross if someone just happens to sit on _this_."

The upcoming seconds, both unconsciously joined into a fit of consoled chortle.

* * *

_Monday, March 10__th__ 2013_

_07.16 AM_

The blond chocoholic held an uninterested glance at the smartphone in his hand.

"Although the last weekend had been the craziest day, I bet that I can ask her out." The redhead gamer stretched a hand to take out a book out of the grey locker.

Mello shifted gazes at the best friend next to him. "Prove it," he dared.

"Watch me." Matt determined his paces; treading through bazillion students toward the woman in white just across of them whilst smugly tinting a grin on his handsome façade.

"Hey, Near!"

The albino recognized that baritone voice. "Hello, Matt," she established a response, twirling a piece of white lock in the process.

"You look different today," he enticed as he flashed a magnificently charming smile.

However, Near was indifferent.

"I think I did nothing different to myself."

"Really? But, you look so… gorgeous today," he started. "So… I wonder if you would like to hang out tonight probably? With me?"

Out of the blue, a vibration put their conversation to an abrupt intermission. Near identified the vibration; it was her phone. Five fingers delved into the pocket of her white pajamas, later exhibiting the vibrating flipped phone. A pair of beautiful eyes extended half a centimeter when they drew in the words "You've got 1 new message" which were scribed on the phone.

_You and me. Tonight. My flat._

_P.S. I love your private dance—I swear I really do._

_Mello_

Was not this an instruction to reject the redhead's invitation?

"That did be lovely," Near uttered a response. "Unfortunately, I already have an appointment with someone who is important."

How unfortunate. This was the first time a woman had turned down Matt's favor.

"Well… alright, I guess…." The gamer's words were mustered with disappointment. His face fell; and both lips were pouting.

Just a few inches across of them, a man in black leathers witnessed the rejection in content silence. He harbored his back to the locker lightly, thereafter penetrated gazes of satisfaction toward the lady in white. She acknowledged it; and the unofficial couple were now exchanging grins.

Of course, it was unofficial now. However, what would be the reaction of the entire horde when it had become official?

* * *

**Fin**

* * *

**Brief Explanation**:

Because this fanfiction is based on the job exotic dancer, I would like to give some information regarding to a stripper. Alright, to start this, a stripper is someone who occupies the job as an exotic dancer. They provide the customers with fantasy of sexual desires through their erotic dances. However, they are not prostitutes. Know the difference. From what I have heard, however, some strippers in some lousy clubs will provide the customers with some extra services. The extra service is usually a private dance in a small room (champagne room). However, it can be as well sex (it depends on the negotiation between the stripper and the customer). Although this means they are going against the law.

The majority of strippers are women. Sure, there are men as well. However, most of the men who become a stripper are buff and muscular. That is pretty much why I decided to change Near's gender, seeing as he has much more of a feminine feature.

Other than that, strippers also have their stripper name. It is like a stage name or something like that. So, yes, "Natelie Fleuve" is Near's stripper name. "Natelie" is like the female name of "Nate", and "Fleuve" means river.

To tell you the truth, I have never been into a strip club myself. However, I did my best by doing a research about it. So, that is it. If you have any question, criticism, or comment, feel free to tell me what you think via review :)


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